


Day 1: Embrace

by HeleneOfFlowers



Series: Enjoltaire Week 2016 [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, exr week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeleneOfFlowers/pseuds/HeleneOfFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em></em><strong>Embrace (verb):</strong><br/>1. to hold someone in your arms as a way of expressing love or friendship<br/>2. to accept (something or someone) readily or gladly<br/>3. to use (an opportunity) eagerly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1: Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> It is time for us all to decide who we are. And the answer is hopeless E/R trash (or at least in my case). It is also time for the first Enjoltaire Week, which has finally made me move my ass and write something about these two idiots. I will follow the given theme for each day as I continue writing, but since this is also the time for my french exam (long live the french educational system!), I'm not sure I will manage posting on each exact given date. So please be patient with me :)  
> As always, I hope you like it!

It was a cold October's night, and the night at the Musain had stretched on longer than Grantaire had originally anticipated. He had spent the last hour or so drinking and chatting with Bossuet, the topic going from everything to nothing and back again. For once he had managed to more or less drown out Enjolras from his thoughts, all thanks to his friends and the wine that gradually disappeared in his stomach. It tasted horrible, but it did its job, and therefore Grantaire continued drinking it. In the end, he had no idea where Enjolras had disappeared to, but it was late and he had to go home if he wanted to sleep in his less than comfortable bed instead of spending the night on the more than dusty and dirty floor of the Musain. As soon as he stepped outside, the cold wind hit him like a mean punch in a bar fight (Grantaire would know from his own experience). While the Amis had been drinking and eating inside the warm café, it had begun to snow outside. Needing to steady himself after the initial shock of the cold and to admire the white snowflakes that slowly descended from the sky, Grantaire leaned against the wall next to the door leading in and out of the house. There was something poetic, about the picture. Paris, normally loud and always awake, had gone to sleep and you could only hear the loud talking from inside the Musain and from the distance, more quiet, the music from some kind of cabaret. Usually, Grantaire disliked nights like this one greatly, for they where too quiet to drown they voices inside him, telling and screaming things he didn't want to hear. But not this night. Instead, the falling snow covered everything and appeased him. This night, Grantaire hadn't drunk as much as normally and for once he was thankful for this, for he could better appreciate the peace which had embraced him.  
Grantaire was suddenly and brutally thrown out of his peaceful dreaming when the door of the Musain swung open and knocked him off his feet. He would have fallen face-first to the ground had he not been caught by Enjolras, who had just stepped out of the café while enthusiastically discussing something with Courfeyrac. They were followed by Joly and Jehan, who abruptly stopped talking when they both had to avoid running into the other two standing in front of them. Grantaire's brain needed a moment to fully register this was really happening. Enjolras was holding him. In his arms. And he was smiling.  
“Dude, you're really drunk! Look at you, you can't even stand straight anymore! Not that you could ever do anything straight. Not even your hair!” He laughed and nudged at one of Grantaire's dark locks. It really wasn't Enjolras place to reprimand Grantaire about his alcohol indulgence that night since he had clearly shared one bottle of wine too many. (Grantaire didn't care about that. Enjolras was holding him and he was joking and he was smiling!) His eloquence had clearly also suffered under the influence.  
“You should definigh- defiant- definitely go home before falling asleep in the snow! Imagine what would happen if Joly here (for one moment Grantaire feared Enjolras would let him fall so he could clap Joly on his back) were to find you here tomorrow, after you died of hypothermia! We can't let that happen!” With an ease that surprised Grantaire, Enjolras put him back on his feet. “Shush, off you go! Go home, to your bed and most importantly, go to sleep! It is already late enough, R, so get the most out of this night, the most you can get!” And with these words and a rather weird and intriguing hand gesture which seemed as if he wanted to chase Grantaire away, Enjolras hooked up his arms under Joly and Courfeyrac and walked off in the opposite direction. Grantaire watched the little group stumble away until they had turned at the next street corner. Finally, he turned around and slowly walked off to his small apartment, where he would fall asleep alone as always and as always, his bed would be cold. Except this time, he would sleep in the sweet memory of Enjolras' embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please don't hesitate and come talk to me either on tumblr ([Helene-Of-Flowers](http://helene-of-flowers.tumblr.com/welcome)) or on twitter ([HeleneOfFlowers](https://twitter.com/HeleneOfFlowers))!


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